Voracity
by MissVivianDarkbloom
Summary: A restless nineteen year old finds herself caught in a whirlwind of pretty lies, ugly truths and disturbing crimes when she decides to cure her boredom by posing as a patient in a psychiatric hospital in an attempt to find out why her grandfather died there long before she was born. Consequently, a killer (or two) take a liking to her. Perhaps ignornace really is bliss. Hannibal
1. Chapter 1

On Tuesday nights five security guards worked the entire Baltimore Psychiatric Hospital. Two on the grounds, two making their rounds on the hospital wards themselves and one watching the camera monitors. Grace knew this; she also knew that the guard monitoring the cameras met a pizza delivery guy outside her window at exactly 11:30pm every Tuesday night, spending about five minutes talking to him before spending a further ten sharing pizza with the guards outside. Fifteen minutes- that's all she needed.

One of those minutes were spent exiting her room and ward, dodging the security guards making their rounds and the odd nurse who had yet to return to their station for the night. It took another three minutes to make her way down to the basement, use the security card she had concealed under her scrubs and enter the hallway which lead to the door she was interested in. It wasn't until the nineteen year old stood inside that tall, high security door did she realise how close she was standing to people locked up for being criminally insane.

Quietly taking a deep breath to steady the nerves that were rattled due to her realisation, Grace took a step forward, letting the door close behind her. She silently tiptoed down the middle of dark hallway, cells lining the walls on either side of her. The only light was sourced from an alcove between two cells in the middle of the hallway, the back wall of which bore a small, barred window near the roof. The window was level with the ground, looking out onto the hospital yard where the floodlights were kept on. The closer Grace got to the light, the more aware she became of the quiet forms of criminals that surrounded her. _Sneaking through a den of lions_. She thought her pulse was more audible than her steps as she continued, finding herself hoping that the nurses had given the people in the cells around her sedatives to keep them down at night- or at the very least hoped that the inmates were diurnal creatures who tended to sleep heavily. Trepidation shook her tiny five-foot frame as she grew closer to the end of the hallway. All it would take was one criminal to hear her for her to be put in danger- in danger of either being caught or killed. _They can't get out of their cells_, she reassured herself, but she couldn't dismiss the fear of one of them awaking and alerting her presence to the security guards.

Now having reached the end of the hallway, Grace relaxed slightly. Her eyes had adjusted to the lack of light and she could make out the door leading to the room which contained what she sought after- her grandfather's file, which held both his medical reports and his psychiatric evaluation. Slowly, Grace perched herself on her knees in front of the keyhole of the wooden door, pulling a hidden hairclip out from behind the bobbin which held her long blonde tresses back in a pony tail. As she completed this action, movement to the left of her, followed by a whisper, caused her to completely stop breathing.  
"Hello."

_Fuck_. Grace swallowed loudly before turning her head to see the outline of a figure standing behind a reinforced glass cell door.  
"Hi." Her responding voice was weak, and she quickly spoke again in a much stronger yet still quiet voice in an attempt to disguise her fear. "Sorry to disturb you. Please ignore my presence."  
The inmate kept his voice low, much to the teen's relief. "Why would I ignore someone as pretty as you? What's your name?"  
His compliment sent shivers down her spine. While attempting to continue on with the task at hand- shimmying the hair clip around in the lock as quietly as possible- she mumbled, "Grace."  
"How wonderful to meet you, Grace. My name is Dr. Abel Gideon. May I ask what it is you are doing?"  
The teen didn't recognise the name, which she presumed was a good thing. He wasn't a notorious murderer, at least. This didn't quell her apprehension, however, as she knew he wouldn't be locked up so tight for any actions that were less than malevolent.  
"I..." she began, taking a deep breath to calm her nerves, "I'm looking for something."  
The man stepped closer to his cell door, much to Grace's discomfort. "Your breaking into the room with all the old files. Naughty girl..."  
Grace felt his eyes boring into her side and tried to block him out, but he wouldn't allow her.  
"You're wearing scrubs... So you're a patient here. What are you in for? Or, more importantly, how'd you sneak out?"

After what felt like an eternity, the lock shifted and Grace silently pulled down the handle and opened the door. She was so close- all she wanted to do was run into the room, grab her grandfather's file and get out. However, she was afraid that if she didn't humour Dr. Abel Gideon, he would make noise and foil her plans.  
"I sneaked out of Wilson's ward upstairs." She straightened up, about to take a step into the room in front of her before once again being halted by the man to her left.  
"Wilson's ward, eh? I suppose they don't feel the need to lock up the sad, depressed people as much as us. You don't seem to be sad or depressed."  
Grace shrugged, unsure of what to say.  
"No, certainly not sad or depressed. Clever though, to dodge the guards and nurses and break into here. All this for a file? Whose file?"  
"Just someone's..." She took a step forward.  
The man's voice grew considerably louder. "I asked, whose file?"  
_Panic._ "My grandfather's. Please, Dr. Gideon, I'd appreciate it if you kept your voice down."  
He nodded, whispering, "Off you go, then. Come back to me with it when you find it."

With furrowed eyebrows, the teen scurried into the room. _This was a bad idea, an extremely bad idea._ But, as always, her curiosity got the better of her. She moved through the stacks of shelves, finding the boxes were arranged in alphabetical order. Using her mother's maiden name, she soon found what she was looking for. Lifting the box off the shelf, she grabbed the file labelled 'JOHNSTON, HENRY JAMES' and returned the box to its shelf before slowly moving back out of the room.

Dr. Abel Gideon's head tilted to the side, reading the name on the file. "I've heard of him."  
Grace turned to face the cell, eyes wide with surprise. "You have?"  
"Mhmm. Where I'm from, he's quite infamous, your grandfather."  
"Infamous?"  
"Oh yes."  
Grace quickly opened the file, scanning it.  
"I heard about him, when I was a young boy. His victims were found near where I grew up."  
Grace swallowed a lump in her throat, the file in her hands nearly dropping due to the shaking support on which it was placed. "Victims?" Her voice broke on the last syllable before she murmured, more to herself than to the man in the cell, "My mom said he was just admitted 'cause he had a nervous breakdown..."  
"Mommy dearest lied. His work was much sloppier than mine and yet he was given a better nickname."  
She blinked, incredulous. "Nickname?"  
"Yes, his was much better than 'The Chesapeake Ripper'."

Grace scoffed, shaking her head. "You're lying. My grandfather wasn't a killer, just like you're not The Chesapeake Ripper. They haven't caught him yet."  
"I am The Chesapeake Ripper! I don't need to prove myself to you, the FBI, Will Graham or anyone else. How could I do what I did to the nurse last week if I wasn't him?"  
If the other inmates weren't awake before, they certainly were now. Dr. Gideon had made sure of that. Still, even though Grace knew she should be fleeing, her inquisitive mind held her there.  
"What nurse? What are you talking about?"  
Dr. Gideon chuckled menacingly. "They obviously didn't tell you little sad folk in case it upset you more. Ask the guards. Ask the other nurses. I am The Chesapeake Ripper!"

Just at that moment, a few metres away, one of the other inmates began half screaming, half cackling at the top of his lungs. Grace heard guards coming down the stairs and acted on instinct, running back into the room with the file and closing the door behind her. She flicked through the papers inside, straining her eyes as she tried to read in the dark. She didn't catch every word but a few such as 'psychopath', 'lack of empathy', 'manipulation', 'dismembered' and 'victims' stood out most. Grace's eyes widened, horrified, and she was sure she could feel her core temperature drop dangerously as her limbs went numb.

The teen was knocked out of her shell-shock when the loud, authoritative voice of one of the guards telling the inmates to settle down came booming from the hallway. A flurry of movement was all it took for Grace to grab her grandfather's file- which she hadn't noticed she had dropped- off the ground and place it back into its designated box. She heard an unfamiliar voice shout, "She's in there! I saw her!" And, on cue, Grace turned and stared listlessly at a wall as one of the guards walked into the room behind her.  
"Hey! What are you doing down here?"  
No response. The teen didn't make a move until the guard walked over and shook her shoulder, at which point she yawned and rubbed the side of her face, turning around to look at him doe-eyed, confusion etched on her sleepy countenance. "Hmm... Who are you? Where am I?"

Feigning sleepwalking... Well, desperate times call for desperate measures.


	2. Chapter 2

"There's no need to be worried, Grace. This man works alongside the FBI and just wants to ask you a few questions about the incident last night."  
"Like I already said, I don't remember what happened, Dr. Chilton."  
"I know, just try your best to answer his questions."

Grace nodded and watched as the administrator of the hospital exited his office. _FBI, great_. She knew she was taking a risk trying to find out more about her grandfather, but she never imagined she'd be in trouble with the FBI over it. Sitting back on the couch, the teen let out a soft sigh, her eyes closed and head leaned forward as she pinched the bridge of her nose between her thumb and forefinger.

She wasn't aware of anyone else entering the room until his accent reached her ears.  
"Good morning, Miss Mason. I'm Dr. Lecter. Agent Jack Crawford asked me to come speak with you."  
Grace stood immediately, her instinctive manners taking over as she offered her hand to the man before her clad in an immaculate three-piece suit. "Good morning, Dr. Lecter. My apologies, I'm... tired."  
Dr. Lecter gave her a small, polite smile. "No need to apologise, Miss Mason. You had a long night." He turned to close the door behind him before gracefully taking a seat on the chair that was positioned in front of Dr. Chilton's couch. "Please, Miss Mason, sit back down."

Grace followed his instructions. She had spoken to a few psychiatrists since she admitted herself into Baltimore's Psychiatric Hospital under the false pretence of being severely depressed and suicidal, but none of them made her feel as scrutinized as Dr. Lecter did in those few seconds. "I don't know if I'll be much help... They haven't told my parents, have they?"  
Hannibal raised an eyebrow; she seemed a little too old to be worrying about such a thing. "No. As far as I am aware, no contact has been made with your relatives."  
Grace nodded, relieved. "Good. It's just, they don't know I'm here."  
_Interesting_. "Your visit to this hospital is nothing to be ashamed of, Miss Mason. Now tell me, what do you remember from last night?"  
His dark eyes met hers, beckoning the information from her. She tried to hold his gaze but crumbled under the pressure, blinking a couple of times before looking down at her hands.  
"I went to bed like every other night and woke up downstairs. Apparently I walked down there in my sleep but I don't remember anything."  
It was obvious to Dr. Lecter that she was lying, but he didn't let it show. Not yet. His expression remained calm and collected as he spoke. "It wasn't simply a case of venturing down a set of stairs, Miss Mason. During your slumber you somehow managed to exit your locked room, enter a key code to leave your secure ward then move downstairs and use a key card to enter the basement; not to mention pick-lock the door to the room you were found in. Can you explain any of these instances?"  
Grace shifted in her seat under his stare. "No, I'm sorry."  
Dr. Lecter countered, "Can't explain or won't explain?"

Silence filled the air between them. Grace glanced down, her forehead creased up with worry before looking up at Dr. Lecter through her long lashes. "Why am I in trouble with the FBI, Dr. Lecter?"  
The man smirked. _Deflection. Far from a wise move, Miss Mason._ "You are in no trouble. The FBI are only involved because a man they are investigating claims you spoke with him last night. Dr. Abel Gideon. Do you remember this, Miss Mason?"  
Grace attempted to restrain it but her eyes burned with questions, which didn't go unnoticed by the doctor. _What happened with the nurse? Is he really the Chesapeake Ripper?_ "No, I only remember speaking to the guard who found me."  
Hannibal nodded, his legs crossing as his fingers interlocked on his knee. "You admitted yourself into this hospital last month. May I ask why, Miss Mason?"  
"I uh, I attempted to commit suicide. I was depressed."  
"You _were_ depressed or _are_ depressed?"  
Grace blinked. "Were- am, I mean. I'm feeling a bit better now after spending some time here. I think I may be ready to go back out into the world again."_ Since there's nothing more that I can learn about my grandfather here._

Dr. Lecter stood unexpectedly, walking over to the right side of the couch, feigning interest in a painting Dr. Chilton had on his wall. "And tell me, Miss Mason, how did you do it?"  
Grace shifted slightly, turning her head to look up at him. "Do what, Dr. Lecter?"  
"Attempt to commit suicide, of course. Did you take a blade to your wrist, stick your neck in a noose.. What was your method?"  
Furrowing her eyebrows, the teen looked down, performing an accurate portrayal of someone ashamed of what they've done. "I swallowed a bunch of pills... I'm sorry, Dr. Lecter, I'm failing to see how this has anything to do with what happened last night?"

She was a cunning little thing. A fairly skilled liar, but far from beyond Hannibal's detection. Yet the young woman had both the guard and Dr. Chilton believing that she didn't remember a thing from the previous night, despite the many holes in her story. Hannibal had to admit, she had him intrigued.  
"It has everything to do with last night, Miss Mason. It can be considered quite rude; lying... I don't think you have uttered a word of truth to me since we've met. What's to be done about that?"

Grace attempted to slow down her racing pulse by carefully inhaling and exhaling deep, even breaths of the stale air in the office. Avoiding the psychiatrist's piercing gaze, her eyes remained fixed on the opposite side of the room as she forced herself not to be panicked by the man's words. Words of her own rolled off her tongue, filling the lingering silence before she realised she was speaking.  
"Pointing out someone's lies isn't exactly polite either, Dr. Lecter." _Why did I say that?_ Her head turned fractionally so she could see his reaction in her peripheral vision. He appeared to be contemplating her statement.  
"I suppose it isn't. It is, however, the lesser of two evils."

The teen watched as the doctor's lithe body moved again, his almost silent footsteps brought him across her field of vision. He indicated to the space beside her on the couch, an expectant expression on his nonchalant features. Grace shifted slightly, nodding permission with the corners of her mouth curved into a tight smile. Dr. Lecter eased himself onto the seat beside her and the teen couldn't help but wonder if it was his intent to make her uncomfortable with his proximity.  
"I believe I could help you, Miss Mason, or rather we could help each other."  
Unsure of where the good doctor was going with this, but keen as ever to find out, Grace simply inquired, "How?"

Hannibal smiled. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees with his hands joined together at his fingertips. Angling his head towards the woman beside him, his eyes slowly drank her in from her feet to her quizzical brown eyes, her natural musk difficult for him to ignore as he secretly inhaled her appetising scent. "From what I gather, you don't belong here and whatever it is you came here to achieve, you have done so last night. Would I be correct in saying so, Miss Mason?"  
She responded with a slight nod. _No use trying to lie to him about it now_.  
"Your little stunt, or perhaps I'd be more accurate in saying you getting caught amidst your endeavour, is not going to go in your favour when you apply to leave this hospital. Whether they believe your somnambulance is to blame or not- which they do believe unless I state otherwise- they will want you to remain here until they ascertain exactly how you achieved what you did." Dr. Lecter paused, allowing the words to sink in before continuing. "Whereas I can ensure they permit your discharge today by suggesting you be put into my care to explore your subconscious memories from your supposed sleepwalking incident. Aside from your freedom, I can also offer you the answers you are yearning for regarding the questions that have been burning in those inquisitive eyes."

His own eyes held hers and for the first time she noticed the hint of maroon within them. With effort she pulled her gaze from his and glanced down in thought, tonguing the inside of her teeth. Dr. Lecter was right; his offer was extremely tempting- but if lying was 'considered rude', why was he willing to do it for her?  
"What do you get out of this, Dr. Lecter?"  
A smirk played on his lips, his head tilted to one side while his gaze held hers as he replied. "My own curiosity satisfied. You have caused quite a stir, Miss Mason, and I would like to know why. Also, if any words of vital importance to the FBI's investigation were exchanged between you and Dr. Abel Gideon, it is my responsibility to find out... Not to mention that you are taking up a bed in this hospital that could be utilised by someone who is genuinely ill and in need of psychiatric assistance."  
_Low blow, Dr. Lecter_. Grace had to admit, he was good. It would be near impossible to refuse his offer now. She wanted to think about it rationally first, however; explore all other options before placing herself at the mercy of a stranger.  
He allowed her the time, observing her soft features as she deliberated his proposition.  
After a moment she realised it was the quickest way for her to leave the hospital and procure the answers to all the questions that were raised in her mind the previous night. With a quiet sigh of defeat, Grace nodded and slightly begrudgingly placed her trust in the man beside her. "Alright, Dr. Lecter, let's have it your way."


	3. Chapter 3

_I'm new to this so please forgive my novice ways. Hannibal is my new found obsession and the idea of Hannibal and Grace's situation came to me in a daydream that I typed out because, well, I like writing. For some reason unbeknownst to myself, that day I created an account on this wonderful site and posted the two chapters I had written. I had no expectation of people actually reading it, let alone following it. So I guess (babbling aside) what I'm trying to say is thank you. I hope you enjoy reading it even fractionally as much as I enjoy writing it. Your comments/ reactions/ constructive criticism is most welcome._

* * *

Dr. Lecter had kept his word and within an hour of their conversation Grace was being handed the personal belongings they had taken from her when she first entered the hospital. Dr. Chilton had been hesitant in response to Hannibal's suggestion, but soon agreed that it would be best for Grace to be in a familiar environment while benefiting from one-to-one sessions with the other psychiatrist. While speaking with Dr. Lecter, however, he did insist that he'd be kept updated with her progress, referring to Grace as 'the patient' in front of her- which justifiably irked the teenager.

Now clad in her own attire- a pair of jeans and a faded t-shirt- Grace stepped outside the gates of the hospital in the morning sunlight, the noise of the bustling city assaulting her ears. Breathing in the almost fresh air, the teen realised she had become quite accustomed to the peaceful, clinical environment that she had been immersed in for the past month. She flinched slightly as a car horn blared a few feet from where she and Dr. Lecter stood on the side-walk, and she was fully aware that her sleep deprivation was affecting her ability to withstand the city sounds.

During these few seconds the teen was painfully conscious of the psychiatrist studying her reactions, despite him not being within her line of vision. As she slung her backpack over her right shoulder, her attention was immediately captured by the doctor's accented voice.  
"Will you miss it?"  
She turned to see him gesture towards the hospital behind them, unable to read his facial expression due to the beam of sunlight currently invading her pupils. A humourless laugh escaped the young woman's lips, her eyebrows raised questioningly at Dr. Lecter, the look in her brown orbs conveying that perhaps he should be the one just out of psychiatric care.  
"Would you?" She shook her head, glancing at the building behind her. "No. It was quite an interesting experience though." With that statement, a smirk played on her lips, spiking the doctor's curiosity.

"Come." Hannibal had turned and began walking away. Glancing back, he was amused by the puzzled look apparent on her features as she scrambled to catch up with his stride.  
"Where?" She eyed him suspiciously, obviously not impressed with his command and lack of explanation.  
He stopped abruptly by his car, pressing the button on the key to unlock the doors. "I'm going to drive you home. I assume you didn't leave your own mode of transport in the hospital parking lot?"  
"Well no, but there are buses. Plus I can't go home just yet."  
Dr. Lecter cocked an eyebrow. "Miss Mason, I'm afraid it would be quite unprofessional of me to discharge a patient from a psychiatric hospital, under the assurance that her well being would be cared for, just to let her wander off alone. Where, might I ask, do you plan on going?"  
"I'll be fine. I'm not actually depressed or suicidal, remember?" Grace retrieved a cell phone from her bag before addressing his inquiry. "A friend's house. My parents think I'm visiting a different friend in England so I can't arrive home without a suitcase."  
Hannibal tilted his head to one side. "So your friend knows that you have been a patient inside Baltimore Psychiatric Hospital for the past month?"

Grace chuckled at what she considered a preposterous idea. "God no. She's covering for me but she thought I was following The Killers' tour -our favourite band- throughout the US. I asked her to hold on to a spare suitcase for me in case I ran out of clothes."  
Dr. Lecter scrutinised his new patient. "Miss Mason, is there anyone in your life who knows where you really were?"  
Upon sending a quick text to her friend, the teen glanced up at the doctor through her lashes. "Um... You?" She gave him a coy smile- the type of smile that usually got her out of uncomfortable situations.  
"I see." As polite as ever, Hannibal walked around to the passenger side of his car and opened the door for Grace. "Please get in the car, Miss Mason. We can discuss appointment times on the way to your friend's."  
The young woman paused, her wide eyes on his patient orbs. "You actually want me to attend therapy sessions with you, Dr. Lecter?"  
He smirked. "Well, you did admit yourself into a psychiatric hospital despite believing you're sound of mind. I honestly believe you would benefit from such sessions."  
Grace crossed her arms petulantly, looking less than amused by the doctor's remark. She wordlessly walked around and took a seat in his car, wondering if it were wise of her to let someone she only met a couple of hours ago drive her anywhere. The teen's worries were evaporated as soon as she witnessed Dr. Lecter's competent, fluid handling of his vehicle.

Silence filled the space between them until the car reached the main road, at which point Hannibal asked where Grace's friend lived. When she responded, he informed her that he knew the road, halting the subsequent directions she was about to impart to him before they reached her tongue. More silence. The sound of traffic outside went unheard by the young woman as she peered unseeingly out the window.  
"Do you often lie to family and friends, Miss Mason?" Hannibal remained perfectly composed as he spoke, his eyes never leaving the road.  
Grace was taken aback by his sporadic question, taking a few seconds before responding. "Only when necessary." _Damn psychiatrists...  
_"And when do you deem it necessary?"  
Sighing under her breath, she sincerely contemplated his question. "When I know my fabrications will ease their minds more than the truth would."  
He seemed somewhat satisfied with her answer, and did not speak again until they reached their destination.  
"A patient of mine cancelled their appointment for this evening. Would five o'clock suit you?"  
"_This_ evening? Sure, I guess... It's this house here."

Dr. Lecter pulled up against the curb, cutting the ignition. He turned to face the woman beside him, his face bearing a solemn expression. "Miss Mason, I placed my professional reputation in jeopardy today in order to help you out. I would appreciate your earnest attempts at both attending and making the most out of our sessions, as well your discretion regarding the agreement we reached earlier."  
Grace nodded, sincerity evident in her brown eyes. "Of course."  
He reached across her lap, opening the glove department where he retrieved a business card that held both his contact details and the address of his office. He handed it to her before saying, "I could pick you up if you're lacking means of transport."  
"No, thanks but I'm able to make my own way around the city." She opened the passenger side door, stepping outside with her bag in hand. She ducked slightly to look back at the man who was apparently her new psychiatrist, a slight smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "Goodbye, Dr. Lecter. Thank you for today."  
He returned her smile, wondering if the woman was genuinely grateful or merely wanting to appear so in order to leave him with a good impression of her. She seemed like a person capable of both acts.  
"You are most welcome. It was a pleasure to meet you, Miss Mason. I'll see you at five."

With that she shut the door and watched as he drove off into the distance.  
_He may be difficult to deal with.  
_The teen was truly grateful for what he had done for her, but she had enough to be dealing with without a psychiatrist attempting to dissect her mind. After all, she recently had a conversation with a possible serial killer and just found out she was related to another. _So much for 'suffering from a nervous breakdown'._ Grace was perturbed by what she had discovered the previous night, and also all the more morbidly intrigued by her grandfather. Intent on learning more about him and what he did, she set her mind to spending the afternoon searching through old newspapers in the library. For now though, the teen had to play the excited concert-goer to her friend as well as inform her parents that she will be flying in from England in the morning.

The young woman was a well practiced centre piece to her web of lies.

* * *

Aside from spending the afternoon listening to his uninteresting patients, Hannibal Lecter had also been in contact with Dr. Alana Bloom. She had been kept busy in Baltimore Psychiatric Hospital asking Dr. Abel Gideon about his encounter with young Miss Grace Mason.  
"All he would say was that they had a conversation. Whenever I asked what their conversation involved, he became evasive. I asked him if he thought Miss Mason was sleepwalking at the time and he said he didn't notice."  
Why would the man posing as the Chesapeake Ripper cover for a woman he didn't know? Hannibal was becoming more interested in this teenager by the minute. "Did he say anything else?"  
"Yeah, he called her 'delightful'. Hannibal, do you think she really was sleepwalking?"  
"I'm not sure yet. I am certain, however, that she doesn't remember what happened."  
He could hear Dr. Bloom's sigh through the receiver. "I'm worried. The way Gideon's eyes lit up when he spoke about her..."  
"Do you think she could be in danger?"  
"It's definitely a possibility."  
The knocking on Dr. Lecter's office door broke his concentration. He glanced over at it as he spoke into the phone. "Speak of the devil... I will get to the bottom of it."  
"Keep me updated?"  
"Certainly." Hannibal hung up, straightening his appearance and brushing down his suit jacket before closing the distance between him and the door.

Lecter opened the door to see Grace Mason's expectant, diamond-shaped face looking up at him.  
"Evenin', Dr. Lecter."  
Her mood was perky and her smile infectious. Hannibal noted she had changed her appearance since that morning- her torso now covered by a sophisticated blue blouse while her straight blonde hair cascaded down slightly past her shoulders.  
He stood aside and gestured for her to enter his office. "Glad you could make it, Miss Mason."  
"I wouldn't miss it." She smiled up at him and stepped inside, impressed by the sight before her. _All those books._ Her eyes were glowing as they scanned Dr. Lecter's collection. _Maybe coming here won't be so bad after all... _Then Grace remembered why she was there, and her mood consequently dampened.

Hannibal moved over to his desk, removing his jacket on the way. He neatly folded it and placed it on the back of his chair before glancing back at the woman. "Please, Miss Mason, take a seat." He nodded to the two opposing chairs positioned in front of his desk. "I was just about to have a snack, would you like some?"  
Grace moved over to the closer of the two chairs, following his instructions. She sat up straight, her back against the rest with one leg crossed over the other. She watched as the doctor removed the lid off some Tupperware, the smell of its contents enticing her. "What is it?"  
Dr. Lecter looked over at his patient with a smile. "Just something I prepared this morning- charred lamb loin on whole wheat crostini with oven roasted tomato."  
_Gourmet much?_ "Thanks for the offer; it smells delicious, but I'm going to have to pass. I don't eat lamb."  
Hannibal turned to face her, a slight frown marring his features. "I'm sorry to hear that. Regretfully I do not have anything else with me to offer. Are you a vegetarian?"  
The teen shook her head. "No, no. Humans didn't climb to the top of the food chain to feast solely on vegetation. Personally, I just don't like eating baby anything... Not judging, of course. And I'm not hungry anyway. Please, don't stop on my account."

Dr. Lecter smirked, amusement in his eyes. He nodded at the woman before taking a bite of his prepared snack. His eyes closed as he savoured it, the flavours dancing on his taste buds. After a moment he replaced the lid on the Tupperware, placing the item back down on his desk neatly. Before Grace knew it. he was in the seat across from her, a polite smile on his lips. He leaned back with naturally good posture, his elbows lying on the arm rests while his hands joined together in his lap.  
"Tell me, Miss Mason, how was your day?"  
Grace stifled a laugh at his surprisingly mundane question. "Eventful, Dr. Lecter. And yours?"  
"Mine was quite eventful itself." He gave her a smile; a genuine one that brought a sparkle to his dark eyes. "Are you ready to discuss the events of last night?"  
The young woman tilted her head to one side, her inquisitive eyes containing a hint of accusation. "Do you not already know what happened?"  
"No. Not the true story."  
She seemed surprised by this. "Has no one spoken to the Chesa- uh, Dr. Gideon?"  
Hannibal leaned forward slightly, his interest undoubted. "As a matter of fact, a colleague of mine has. Dr. Abel Gideon admitted to speaking with you, but did not say the topic of that discussion."  
The teen blinked, looking surprised and doubtful. "Really?"  
"Really."  
"Huh."

The two remained silent for a moment. Dr. Lecter watched as Grace appeared to be lost in thought. After a moment of his patience, she spoke again.  
"Why not?" She appeared genuinely puzzled by this.  
"I was hoping you would tell me, Miss Mason." Hannibal leaned back, his right leg crossing over his left while his fingers interlocked at his knee. "Did you ever meet or know of Dr. Gideon prior to last night?"  
The woman's brow furrowed. "What? No, of course not."  
Dr. Lecter observed her reaction with great scrutiny. She appeared to be telling the truth.  
"Is he the Chesapeake Ripper?" Finally she could ask one of her many questions.  
Hannibal cocked a brow. "What makes you think that, Miss Mason?"  
"He said so. Last night. He actually said it a couple of times."  
The psychiatrist's countenance remained emotionless._ Plagiarism. So distasteful. _"He has claimed to be responsible for those crimes, yes. The FBI is currently investigating his claims."  
Grace leaned forward, elbows resting on her knees. "What happened with the nurse?"  
"Which nurse?"  
"The nurse in the hospital last week. He mentioned something he did to her but he didn't say what. He told me to ask the guards or the nurses about what he had done."  
"And did you?"  
"No. I'm asking you."  
Hannibal gave her a tight smile. She was so eager to learn. "It is public knowledge now. He killed a nurse whilst she was examining him in Baltimore Psychiatric Hospital in a way reminiscent to the Chesapeake Ripper's methods."  
Her voice raised a few octaves. "Last week?"  
"Yes."  
"So this happened in the same building the other patients and I were in, and yet no one told us about it?"  
"I'd imagine they didn't want to cause alarm."  
Grace shook her head incredulously.

Dr. Lecter waited for a moment in silence, studying the woman's face. Eventually he asked, "Are you a reporter or a journalist of any kind, Miss Mason?"  
The teen looked amused by his question. "No."  
"A private investigator, perhaps?"  
"Nope, just innately curious."  
_Interesting._ "So what is it you do?"  
"I'm a student."  
"Studying?"  
"Pre-med."  
Hannibal had to admit, he wouldn't have guessed that. This woman was full of surprises. "Do you enjoy it?"  
"Very much so, yes."  
"I take it you are on your summer break?"  
"Yes."  
"And tell me, Miss Mason, why would a young woman such as yourself voluntarily spend a month of her summer break inside a psychiatric hospital?"  
Grace shifted in her seat, uncrossing and re-crossing her legs. "Boredom."  
"Just boredom?"  
"Well, that and curiosity."  
This statement brought a glint of intrigue to Dr. Lecter's eyes. "What were you curious about?"  
The teen smirked, amusement evident in her eyes. "The food."  
The doctor restrained himself, patiently keeping his composure. "And how was it?"  
"Bland."  
"And the real reason, Miss Mason?"  
Sighing, Grace looked away from the man in front of her.

The young woman wasn't entirely sure she wanted to impart such information to Dr. Lecter. Despite the situation they found themselves in at that moment, the fact remained the same- she had just met him that morning. Granted, he had put himself out for her and she did tell him that in return she would give him the truth, but the truth wasn't something she could give easily to anyone. Considering the decision rationally, however, there was the chance that the man could be able to help her find answers to some of the questions she had; plus she knew that if he were truly intent on finding out what she was hiding, all it would take was a little digging to realise who her grandfather was. Grace concluded that she might as well tell the doctor now, keep herself in his good books and hope the discretion she intended on exercising would be reciprocated.

The teen unconsciously pulled her legs up, sitting cross-legged on the seat as her gaze eventually returned to Hannibal.  
"I'm officially your patient now, yes?"  
"Yes..."  
"So the whole 'doctor-patient confidentiality' thing applies?"  
The psychiatrist gave her a smile. "Of course. And even if it didn't, I would keep your secret, Miss Mason."  
Grace nodded, tonguing the inside of her teeth. "My grandfather- on my mother's side. That's why I was there. He was a patient in the late sixties and ended up dying in their care in nineteen-seventy. I asked my mom about him on several occasions but all I could get from her was that he had a nervous breakdown and was being treated there for it. She was eight when he died. She describes him as a 'gentle gentleman' and a 'great father'... When I went looking for his medical records, to see if he had died in their care due to malpractice, they wouldn't give them to me without her consent. I broached the subject to her and she freaked out and got emotional, as usual. Getting his records myself was the only way I could find out. So yes, I faked being suicidal. And yes, I stole a couple of key codes and a key card and I pick-locked a door and trespassed and read a file that I legally shouldn't have. But I needed to know. I mean, this man is my grandfather; I should be allowed to know."

Hannibal smiled coyly. _At last, the truth._ "So you read the file. What did you find out, Miss Mason?" He leaned forward, hanging on her every word.  
The young woman looked down, forehead creased up as she thought about what words to use. "My grandfather- he didn't have a nervous breakdown... Apparently he was a killer. A serial killer. He slaughtered and dismembered both men and women..."  
Dr. Lecter's eyes lit up at her revelation. His countenance remained serene and objective as he spoke, his voice formal and professional. "What was your grandfather's name, Miss Mason?"  
Grace sat back in her seat, rolling her shoulders backwards in an attempt to relax them. Her gaze shifted from the man in front of her to the wall behind him and back again. "Henry. Henry James Johnston..." She paused for a moment, deliberating before continuing. "I went to the library this afternoon to research him, through newspaper articles from back in the day. The tabloids gave him a nickname. The Hampstead Hacker." She laughed humourlessly. "Obviously before computer hackers took over the word."  
Hannibal spoke thoughtfully. "The Hampstead Hacker..."  
"Yes. Have you heard of him?" Her mind was torn; she was half dreading and half hoping that Dr. Lecter knew something about him.  
"The name sounds familiar."  
"Yeah, well, that's why I was there and that's what I found out." The teen joined her hands together, interlocking her fingers before stretching out her arms with her palms facing away from her.

The psychiatrist uncrossed his legs, leaning forward towards the intriguing woman before him as he rested his elbows on his knees. "Discovering this, about your grandfather- how did it make you feel, Miss Mason?"  
Grace blinked, caught off guard. She hadn't really considered it. How _did_ she feel knowing that her grandfather butchered people? The corners of her mouth turned down until she bore a slight pout as she contemplated Dr. Lecter's question.

Just at that moment, the telephone on Hannibal's desk began to ring. Obviously irked by the intrusion, the man stood abruptly, excusing himself as he paced over to the source of his irritation. Within seconds of answering the phone, his frustration began to dispel and he spoke with his usual polite, professional tone.  
"Yes... Yes, I understand... Yes, she is here with me... I will... Certainly, Agent Crawford. I'll inform her now... We will be there soon."

Dr. Lecter placed his phone back on his desk, glancing over at Grace's expectant eyes. She was sitting up straight, ready to stand when he began explaining.  
"That was Special Agent Jack Crawford. He was requesting a meeting with you. He's in Baltimore Psychiatric Hospital now." Hannibal turned to retrieve his jacket.  
"But I already spoke with Dr. Chilton and you. I thought I wasn't in trouble with the FBI?" The teen was on her feet now, arms crossed over her chest.  
"I assure, Miss Mason, you are not. However, Dr. Abel Gideon has confessed to other murders, ones he committed before he was locked up. It seems that he is willing to exchange the locations of their bodies for an opportunity to speak with you again."  
Grace's eyes grew wide. "_Me_? Why me?"  
Hannibal slipped into his jacket. "It appears he has taken an interest in you, Miss Mason. You will not have to see him again if you so wish, but Special Agent Crawford would like to speak with you about it."  
"Now?"  
Dr. Lecter gave the young woman a small, encouraging smile. "Yes, unfortunately. I'll accompany you, if you'll allow me to."  
The teen merely nodded once before walking towards the door. "Right. Let's go then."

Hannibal was almost certain he observed a spring in her step.


	4. Chapter 4

_I apologise for the wait- it has been a busy week. Thank you so much for following/ favouriting (I'm not sure if that's not a word...)/ reviewing. I hope this chapter doesn't disappoint.  
I'd like to take this opportunity to note that although I intend on keeping the canon characters as true to their portrayal on Hannibal as I can, the circumstances around them will obviously be different in order for my story to go in the direction I have in mind. You will understand what I mean if you have seen last week's (amazing) episode which centred on Gideon's story.  
Enjoy!_

* * *

Jack Crawford stood beside Dr. Chilton's desk, anger radiating from his form as his eyes remained fixed out the window. He watched as Dr. Lecter escorted the woman that Gideon had requested a rendezvous with into the hospital, scepticism embedded in his eyes.  
"Don't push her, Jack." Alana Bloom's voice pulled him from his thoughts.  
Crawford turned to face her, arms folded across his chest. His booming, authoritative voice didn't cause Alana to cower as it would many others.  
"It's all a bit too convenient that she doesn't remember a thing from last night, and now Gideon is asking for her?"  
Dr. Bloom leaned against Chilton's desk, shrugging her shoulders slightly. "I know, but there are a number of reasons that could cause her mind to repress what she did. Hannibal will figure it out- he's about the only person I would trust with her. His experience-"  
"I trust Dr. Lecter's competence, Alana. It's Gideon and the girl I don't trust."  
The female psychologist nodded, looking up at the agent in charge of the FBI's Behavioural Science Unit with concern etched on her features. "The possibility of her being traumatised by the events last night is still very high. If that's the case, placing her in front of Gideon could be detrimental to her psychological well-being."  
"What about the families of Gideon's victims? Their psychological well-beings are at stake here, too."  
"Yes, and you know we all want to bring peace to the families- but it would be preferable if we could spare this young woman's mental health in the process. After all, we are talking about placing a nineteen year old- who's prone to severe depression, suicidal tendencies as well as sleepwalking- in a room with a serial killer. The consequences-"

The sound of Dr. Chilton's voice silenced Dr. Bloom. Both she and Jack waited, watching the doorway until the hospital administrator, Dr. Lecter and Grace Mason appeared.  
Chilton took the liberty of introducing everyone. "Grace, this is Agent Crawford and Dr. Bloom. They work with the FBI and are currently assigned to Dr. Gideon's case."  
The teen gave them a nod as she uttered pleasantries, unnoticeably observing the silent exchange between Dr. Lecter and his colleagues.  
"Miss Mason, we have been informed that you cannot recall the events of last night nor your conversation with Dr. Gideon..." Jack gestured to the couch as he spoke.  
Grace shook her head, both affirming his statement and declining his offer.  
"That aside, Dr. Gideon has confessed to at least two other murders this morning that we had no prior knowledge of. He claims to have committed these murders before he was incarcerated two years ago and has agreed to impart the whereabouts of his victims' remains provided that he is permitted another opportunity to speak with you. Do you know why he wants this opportunity, Miss Mason?...And I'd be careful with your answer, as if it is later proved that you lied to the FBI, you can be charged with obstruction of justice."  
The teen shook her head, her face bearing a solemn expression. "Believe me, Agent Crawford, I have no idea why he would want to talk to me." _And I'm even more eager to find out his reasons than you are._

Grace watched as the individual who was introduced to her as Dr. Bloom took a step closer without invading her personal space. The young woman had to admit, she was somewhat relaxed by the other woman's warm smile- it was a nice recess from Agent Crawford's hostility.  
"Miss Mason, I just want to make sure you know that this is entirely your decision. If you would rather not speak to Dr. Abel Gideon, you will not be forced to. We are aware that you had a tough night-"  
Jack also took a step forward, commandeering the conversation. "That being said, I would like to urge you to consider the families of Gideon's victims and the closure you could offer them by helping the FBI find these remains."  
Grace stayed silent as she watched Alana's eyes narrow at the FBI agent, her irritation evidently not disguised well as she spoke.  
"Yes, but there may be other methods of tracking down the victims' remains which the FBI could explore if you do not feel ready to speak with Gideon." The psychologist glanced back at the teen. "You have to decide what you think is best for you, Miss Mason."

Dr. Lecter stood in the background of the conversation, observing. He watched Grace's soft features as they twisted and untwisted while she pretended to struggle with the decision- but Hannibal knew her better than his colleagues did; perhaps he even knew her better than she knew herself. The psychiatrist was convinced Grace's mind had been made up on the matter before they had left his office. Now his young patient was merely attempting to appear less ardent than she felt, consciously or otherwise.

A slight, encouraging nod was received from Dr. Lecter when the teen glanced over at him. With a sigh, her gaze averted back over to Dr. Bloom before finally settling on Agent Crawford's steely eyes. Grace knew that if it were up to the agent in front of her, she wouldn't have a choice in the matter.  
"No, I want to do this. Given any other situation I'd prefer not to speak with someone capable of what Dr. Gideon is, but if it means I can help- especially after the trouble I caused last night- I'll do it." She nodded resolutely before exhaling a shaky breath.  
_Such talent_. Even down to the way the young woman held herself as she spoke- determined yet timid. Hannibal felt his mood lighten as the thought of prodding his new patient's mind flitted through his consciousness.  
With a controlled, polite smile he placed a hand on Grace's back as his eyes met Jack's. "Let's discuss how we will approach this meeting then, shall we?"

* * *

The hallways seemed narrower now that Grace was no longer a patient in the hospital. She took steps in unison with Dr. Alana Bloom. The two women were being escorted by a fairly large orderly whose height made it difficult to notice the bald patch positioned on the crown of his head. He was explaining the rules of patient contact- or rather, non-contact. His mumbled words describing how Gideon was restrained never reached the teenager's ears, mostly due to the lack of attention she was paying. Her mind was too busy conjuring up scenarios of how this meeting could unfold.  
The orderly stopped outside a door which looked rather similar to any door found in a building full of offices, which somewhat surprised Grace.  
_What were you expecting: a 'danger- keep out' sign?_ The young woman inwardly scolded herself for her frivolous thoughts.

"Are you ready, Miss Mason?"  
Dr. Bloom's voice was eventually noticed by Grace, and the teen gave the woman a nod as a sound which vaguely resembled 'yes' escaped her lips.  
"Remember, we can leave whenever you want."  
The blonde watched as Alana's hand pushed down the handle, opening the door to reveal a room much like any interrogation room on TV: bare, grey windowless walls; one bright overhead light; a table in the middle of the room with a chair on either side. Unlike TV, however, there was no giant window posing as a mirror.  
The orderly who showed them to the room remained outside while another, slightly larger orderly stood in a corner behind Gideon. Dr. Gideon himself sat in a chair which was bolted to the floor. Both his hands and feet were chained while his torso was also bound to the chair on which he perched. Grace's eyes left him for a second to find the camera through which Dr. Lecter, Agent Crawford and Dr. Chilton were watching in a surveillance room upstairs. For reasons unbeknownst to herself, the teen's gaze lingered on the camera long enough for Gideon to notice.

"Careful now. Big Brother is watching..." The restrained man almost sang his words, winking at Grace when her orbs shifted to view his face.

"Good evening, Dr. Gideon-"  
The man interrupted. "Dr. Bloom, how wonderful it is to see you again. Twice in one day, too. If we keep this up," his voice lowered to a conspiratorial whisper, "people may talk."  
The psychologist ignored his interjection. "Miss Mason was kind enough to accept your invitation. I hope you appreciate this gesture and treat her with the upmost respect she deserves, as well as uphold your side of the agreement."  
Gideon grinned. "Miss Mason, thank you for your visit- both last night and today. Now, now. Don't fret. I heard you were sleepwalking and can't remember a thing..." He continued with his theatrics, replacing his grin with an exaggerated frown. "That's a shame. It was a pleasant chat."  
Grace tilted her head to one side, curiosity once again burning in her brown eyes. "Why did you ask for me, Dr. Gideon?"  
"I think 'Dr. Gideon' is so formal, as is 'Miss Mason'. Since you introduced yourself with your first name last night, I will take the liberty of using it today, _Grace_." He paused on her name, drawing it out for emphasis. "Please, call me Abel." His gaze remained fixed on the teen as he gestured to the seat across the table from him.  
Without looking to Dr. Bloom or the orderly for permission, the young woman sat down, crossing her legs and folding her arms across her chest. "Can you just tell them where you hid the bodies? We can talk about whatever you like after that."

In Grace's peripheral vision she watched Alana tense up. Had she made a faux pas? The young woman glanced at the psychologist before moving her gaze back to the murderer across the table from her. She knew that she was getting a little impatient now and it was beginning to show; she just had so many questions and instead of answers, everyone kept raising more questions.  
Abel smiled knowingly. "Not quite yet, Grace. I'd like for you and I to have a little chat alone first, then I'll direct _you_ to the bodies."  
Dr. Bloom immediately took a step towards the younger woman, her hand moving to rest on her shoulder. "I'm afraid I cannot allow that to happen, Dr. Gideon. You were told the rules before we contacted Miss Mason."  
"Ah but rules were made to be broken, Dr. Bloom. I know you are a fan of them, but Dr. Chilton isn't. And if _he_ is allowed to break the rules by planting ideas in my head then surely I'm allowed merely _bend_ them just this once."  
Grace's brow furrowed as she looked to Alana for answers.  
The psychologist shook her head, stepping back to gesture towards the door. "Miss Mason, can you come with me outside..?"  
Without attempting to disguise how perplexed she was, the younger woman stood and followed Dr. Bloom.  
Gideon's musical voice calling "Don't be long!" could be heard as Alana closed the door behind them.

"What's going on?"  
The older woman lowered her voice to ensure their conversation would go undetected by Gideon. "I'm sorry, Miss Mason. I shouldn't have let you enter that room with him. He's playing games and has no intention of following the guidelines we set out."  
"So he hasn't killed those other people?"  
Dr. Bloom sighed. "I don't know. I think he might have as he could detail accurately two missing women who have yet to be found."  
"Then I should go find out what he knows."  
"I don't think that's a good idea..."

Their conversation was interrupted by the sound of Jack Crawford's advancing footsteps. He waited until he was close enough to speak to them in a loud whisper.  
"Why are you two out here and not in _there_?"  
"Jack, it's my professional advice that you continue your investigation without involving Miss Mason."  
"With all due respect, Alana, this is not your investigation and Miss Mason is not your patient."  
"No, but Gideon is- this week, at least. And he won't tell you what you want to know unless he gets what he wants. He knows he has the upper hand and intends on using it."  
Jack glanced at the door before looking back at his colleague. "I don't like giving him what he wants any more than you do, but if it means finding these victims then where is the harm in leaving Miss Mason in a room with him when he is restrained and an orderly is standing behind him?"  
Alana narrowed her eyes, the expression in them defiant. "There is plenty of opportunity for harm and you know it."  
Bypassing Dr. Bloom, Jack looked to the young woman in question. "Would you mind going back inside and listening to what Gideon has to say if Dr. Bloom and I wait out here? The orderly will still be in there with you and Dr. Lecter and Dr. Chilton are still monitoring the room from upstairs."  
Grace shook her head. "No, I don't mind."  
Agent Crawford nodded. "It's settled then."  
"Jack..."  
"Alana, we'll discuss it later. Right now my main priority is finding out what Gideon is not telling us. Miss Mason, we'll be right outside." He gestured towards the door.  
The young woman nodded, giving Dr. Bloom a small smile. "I'll be fine."  
Despite the psychologist's obvious objection, Grace re-entered the room alone.

Knowing Alana's intentions were pure, the teenager felt sorry for the psychologist, but- a part hidden inside her- was also glad she had the opportunity to speak with Gideon (almost) alone again. She was aware of the orderly's presence and Dr. Lecter and Dr. Chilton's eyes on them though the camera- but somehow it felt more private. Perhaps this was due to the distant look in the orderly's eyes or the fuzzy monitor she knew the hospital administrator and her psychiatrist were watching through.

"Welcome back, Grace."

* * *

Dr. Lecter's attention moved from the monitor to the woman standing beside him. Dr. Bloom had left Agent Crawford downstairs and was now studying the screen attentively, her foot tapping impatiently.  
"She's strong, Alana. Resilient. More than capable of looking after herself."  
"I know, Hannibal. It's just... Gideon."  
"I'd prefer it if she had nothing to do with this investigation, too, but I believe she is sincerely happy to help in whatever way she can."  
"It's not just that..." Dr. Bloom looked up at her old mentor, a slight frown visible on her features. "I think Gideon may have a type."  
Intrigued, Lecter glanced at the monitor before looking back at Alana. "What makes you think that?"  
"His wife, and if these missing girls really are his victims... They are similar in appearance, Hannibal."  
The psychiatrist looked back over at the screen, finishing the message Dr. Bloom was trying to convey. "They look like her."

* * *

The young woman moved back over to the chair she had sat in previously, her eyes scrutinising the killer before her. "Why?"  
"So full of questions... Why what?"  
She leaned forward in her seat. "Why did you ask for me? Why are you here? Why are you telling them the location of the remains _now_? Why did you kill that nurse?" _Why didn't you tell them about my grandfather?  
_Gideon smirked playfully, his eyes dancing. "Why not? When an opportunity arises, I make the most of it. I think we all have a little bit of that in our blood..."  
"Are you the Chesapeake Ripper?"  
The man pouted, shrugging his shoulders. "I don't know." He looked pensive. "I thought I was, but after speaking with Dr. Bloom today... Maybe Dr. Chilton was psychic driving. But between us two, Grace, I plan on finding out exactly who I am and maybe even where I came from. I guess we both have that in common. Yes, so much in common..."  
The young woman's eyes widened slightly, fearing Gideon could reveal too much at any moment. Swiftly analysing his words, however, Grace knew she could easily brush it off as the musings of a madman. "Is that why you asked for me? 'Cause you think we are alike?"  
An eerie smile played on his lips. "Don't you?"  
Sitting up straight again, the teen's forehead creased up in response to his question. Whatever thoughts were running through her mind, she had no intention of vocalising them.

Gideon pursed his lips, his fingertips joining together in his lap. He began tapping them against each other, swaying side-to-side in his seat. "Do you believe in fate, Grace?"  
"No, not really."  
"Neither did I, until very recently."  
"Dr. Gideon-"  
"Abel."  
"_Abel,_ do you plan on leading the FBI to where you left the bodies?"  
"No. I will lead _you_ to the bodies, Grace. The FBI may accompany you if you'd like."  
"Me? _Why_?"  
Gideon smirked once again. "Why not?" He leaned as far towards her as his restraints would allow. "Fate sometimes needs a helping hand, Grace. _That's why_."


	5. Chapter 5

Darkness began encompassing Patapsco State Park in Baltimore, Maryland as Dr. Lecter's car pulled into the parking-lot. Trees took on a more threatening appearance, their black outlines protruding into the night sky as their abundant leaves reduced the visibility of the stars and clouds loitering above them. Dead heat seemed to hover on the ground, the only relief from which was a light breeze that rattled the nearby greenery. The sound of distant traffic could only be heard by the current inhabitants of the park if one listened out for it, while the faint sound of water flowing down the river lured visitors into a false sense of security and relaxation.

Grace glanced out the passenger-side window of Lecter's vehicle to Crawford and his colleagues, her gaze lingering on the group of forensics. The sight of their kits reminded her of the high possibility of witnessing the discovery of something macabre. The situation she found herself in suddenly felt surreal, as though she were watching herself at that moment rather than experiencing it.  
"How are you feeling, Miss Mason?"  
She hadn't become quite used to hearing his accent yet; it took her a moment to decipher his question. "Fine." She jerked her head towards the crowd waiting just a few feet away. "Shall we?"  
Hannibal seemed somewhat dissatisfied with her monosyllabic answer but digressed with a polite smile. "Whenever you feel ready."  
The young woman didn't hesitate before exiting the car, inhaling a deep breath of fresh air before closing the door behind her and moving to join the people gathering outside the entrance to the park.

"Ensure security is placed on all entrances." Jack was laying commands on a tall, wiry man who was clutching a walkie-talkie. "The park is closed but I don't want any after-hours trespassers disrupting us. And someone contact Will Graham! We could use his input..."  
"I already sent a car round to pick him up. He's on his way."  
"Good." Crawford's eyes found Grace and he immediately approached her, his countenance a solemn mask of professionalism. "Gideon insists on giving his directions to you, Miss Mason, via video call to ensure you are the one leading the search."  
The teen nodded, taking the cell phone the man held out to her. "I know. He's yet to explain why, though."  
"We intend on finding that out later," he began, the look in his eyes confirming Grace's suspicions- he thought that she knew more than she was admitting. "But our priority right now is this search. Dr. Lecter, would you mind coming with Miss Mason and the rest of us into the park?"  
Hannibal took a torch offered by one of the officers. "Of course not. Miss Mason has already agreed to allow me accompany her."  
"We'll get started, then." Jack took the walkie-talkie off the man beside him, his distinguishable voice booming into it. "We're ready."

A few seconds later, just as Grace thanked an officer for the torch he had supplied her with, the phone in her hand began to ring. Her gaze shot to Lecter before moving to Agent Crawford, receiving permission from him to answer it. She pressed the button, silencing the generic music, and as she did, video of herself was captured and sent to the caller while no image of said caller was received.  
"Hello?"  
"Grace!" His voice silenced the crowd around her, the playful tone in it almost menacing given the situation. "How was the drive there?"  
Her brow furrowed. "Uh, okay. What direction am I to head in?"  
"Oh, don't look so worried."  
"I'm not. Which way do we go, Dr. Gideon?"  
"_Abel,"_ he urged. "Let me see... If my memory serves me correctly, you go through the entrance by the parking-lot and continue along the trail until you get to a tree much younger than others around it, by a boulder just one hundred feet short of the bridge. Off you pop."  
The teen didn't say another word. Instead, she silently walked through the open entrance in front of her with Dr. Lecter, Crawford and his colleagues close behind.

She kept her eyes on the trail to ensure that she didn't trip over anything, the beam of light that was emitted from her torch focusing her attention. Despite his silence, she was hyper-aware of Gideon's technology-produced presence.  
He eventually spoke. "I do regret not being able to visit there again. Aside from burying bodies, it's a pleasant place to spend an afternoon in. Have you been before?"  
Grace's tongue traced along her teeth; she considered lying before deciding against it. "No."  
"That's a shame. On the bright-side, I brought you tonight. Such wonderful views to behold..."  
She glanced back over her shoulder at Dr. Lecter, looking confused. His returning, expressionless look of scrutiny revealed no answers.  
Everyone behind her remained silent in order to easily overhear the conversation.

"Have you ever seen a dead body in real life, Grace?"  
The young woman could feel Crawford's eyes on her. "No, I haven't," she uttered vehemently, ignoring the fact that she would eventually have to within the next couple of years when she has to dissect a cadaver. That information was hardly pertinent, however.  
"There's a first for everything, I suppose. My apologies in advance- these bodies won't be that fresh since I didn't feel the need to preserve them, for the most part."  
She was almost certain she could hear a smile in his voice.  
"Then again, you don't seem like the type with a weak stomach. As a matter of fact, I don't sense anything weak in you, Grace. I'm glad."  
Was that... adoration she was hearing? The teen was usually talented at picking up on such things in people- at reading people in general- but it was proving more difficult when she was only given the voice to work with.

Choosing to ignore his last few remarks, Grace stayed silent until the beam of light from her torch fell upon a boulder. Spotting the tree that was both shorter and thinner than the others around it, she spoke into the phone, her tone lacking any tolerance or patience. "Where to now?"  
"Hmm... The tree and then... I believe I went right just at the boulder, off the trail, down through the trees for about two hundred metres... Back then there were two fallen trees beside each other that people used to rest on. If they're still there, Sarah and Michaela will be buried beside them on the left..."  
The teen was surprised by the man's sudden use of his victims' names. Before she began following his directions, she hesitated and narrowed her eyes on the phone. "Sarah and Michaela. That's much less distant than you've been so far; almost... personal."  
Gideon sighed. "Now, now, Grace. I think you're spending too much time with those psychologists and psychiatrists... You're starting to sound like them."  
"It was just an observation," she muttered absent-mindedly, realising that in the past month she had been around people of that profession quite a lot. Whether or not that was beneficial is a whole other matter- but acquiring knowledge could hardly be harmful, she supposed.  
"Do you need a break?" His teasing tone flowed from the loudspeaker and danced through the leaves overhead.  
"Hardly," her reply was barely audible as she moved off the trail and down through the trees without so much as glancing back to receive permission. They were close now and she was becoming more restless.

Her footing was far less stable. As the young woman moved downhill, branches, wood-chippings and mud all slid from under her as she placed her weight on it. Wrapping the crook of her arms around tree trunks to secure some equilibrium, she rushed towards their destination.  
"Careful now. Wouldn't want to lose your torch or your entourage... The big bad wolf might find you alone in the woods."  
"How unfortunate for the wolf."  
His responding chuckle resounded in the almost soundless park.  
After a moment, Grace stilled. Her eyes were fixed ahead on what her torch exposed. "We're here." Turning the phone around, she let the camera capture the two fallen trees on which the light shone.  
"Indeed we are. Don't suppose you brought a shovel?"

The teen turned her head to find Dr. Lecter to her left. When she looked back, the area was littered with officers and forensics, all going about unearthing Gideon's work. Before she realised it, the cell phone had been taken from her hand by Agent Crawford. He spoke into it but his words never reached Grace's consciousness as she remained entirely focused on the activities in front of her.

"I found something! Over here!" A man standing in a trench about three feet deep raised his hand, calling over Jack. A dozen different spotlights shone into the trench, waiting for the climax of the show to be revealed.  
Crawford looked down to see the foot of one of the corpses, and gave the forensics a grave nod. He then moved to close the distance between the remains of Gideon's victims and his new apparent obsession. "I appreciate the help you've given tonight, Miss Mason. Two officers will escort you and Dr. Lecter back to the parking-lot whenever you are ready to leave."  
Grace's eyes widened with alarm. Moving her gaze back to the spotlighted area, she merely nodded in response to the information, showing no desire to leave at that present moment.

Within minutes the two bodies had been unearthed. What struck the young woman the most was the stench. A heady mixture of dirt, damp and decay assaulted her senses. Flesh was borderline non-existent on the corpses, which lay in awkward positions covered in not only their own attire, but also a bare scrap of cloth which resembled a bed sheet. The first body they had discovered lay stretched out with its hands over its thoracic cavity, where its beating heart once resided. The second was curled into a foetal-position with its hands raised to rest atop its skull.

The sight of the remains did not affect Grace as much as she predicted it could. She did not once look away- or even blink- as the bodies were dug up. Instead, she remained completely still, unable to tear her gaze from the horrific scene before her. It had been many years since the teen last experienced nightmares, but if she did, she was sure images like this would be what they would consist of.

And yet, on that night, no nightmares visited the slumbering mind of Grace Mason.

* * *

"Will, come in."  
"Sorry I'm late." Stepping inside, the weary man made his way over to the closest seat.  
Closing the door to his office, Hannibal gave his guest a warm smile, walking over to his desk as he spoke. "No need to apologise. Once you call ahead like you did to give me notice, I am happy. Tell me, Will... Did you get any sleep last night? You look fatigued."  
Glancing up, he nodded, sitting with his forearms resting on his knees and his feet wide apart. "Uh... I got a few minutes this morning." After speaking, his head drooped back down, his eyes fixed on the floor.  
"Nightmares?" Hannibal moved to the chair opposite him, his eyes carefully examining Crawford's prized profiler.  
"Yeah. The usual."  
"Would you like to discuss-"  
Hannibal's question was halted by Will's shaking head and brief glance.

"I'm sorry I missed you last night," Lecter began, his gaze never leaving the man in front of him. "I left to bring Miss Mason home before you arrived."  
"It's fine. The girl's your patient now, isn't she? The one Gideon's messing with?"  
"Yes. You believe he is 'messing' with her?"  
"I don't know if that's his intention but it's certainly the result."  
Hannibal waited a moment before asking, "After seeing those remains last night, do you think he is the Chesapeake Ripper?"  
Will sighed and shook his head, removing his glasses to pinch the bridge of his nose as he spoke. "Different mindsets... The man who killed his wife and those two missing girls had a different thought process- a different design- than the man who killed the nurse last week. And even at that, the methods may have been the same with the nurse but I didn't _feel_ the Ripper..."  
"So you believe Gideon is _not_ the Ripper?"  
"Yes. I think... Gideon isn't entirely sure who he is right now, but this new girl... She reminded him of an aspect of his old self that made him seriously re-evaluate his identity."

Dr. Lecter watched as he put his glasses back on with his own head tilted to one side and concern evident in his dark eyes. "Have the recent cases Jack has put you on made _you_ re-evaluate your identity, Will?"  
Looking slightly lost, the younger man tilted his head up, looking the psychiatrist in the eye for a split second before glancing away again. He responded wordlessly with a couple of nods, averting his gaze back down to his hands as they joined together, interlocking at the base of his fingers.  
Hannibal leaned forward in his seat. "Never lose sight of who you are, Will. Regardless of where Jack sends you and whose mind you find yourself in, _you_ are Will Graham- not these killers. If you ever feel yourself slipping away: pull back, come here. Remember, you have me as your gauge."  
Will simply nodded, appearing to be almost too exhausted for words.

Following a couple moments of silence, Dr. Lecter spoke. "Do you mind if we talk about the events of last night?"  
Rubbing the side of his face, the sleepier of the two men shook his head. "How's um... the girl?"  
"Grace Mason? She seemed fine when I dropped her home last night. I don't think it all has sank in, yet."  
Will's countenance was etched with understanding, the corners of his mouth turned down into a slight frown.  
"I spoke on the phone with Jack this morning. According to him, the bodies found last night had had some organs removed..?"  
"Yeah. One had its brain removed; the other its heart. The pathologist is still going over them today but they think they were removed post-mortem..."  
"That's why they were positioned as they were?" Hannibal suggested, fishing for the other man's opinion.  
Will straightened up slightly, attempting to look more alert as he searched for words. "...Gideon valued one victim's brain and the other's heart, but not like the Chesapeake Ripper."  
"No?"  
"No. The Ripper removes organs, yes, but that fact is almost hard to tell since his victims are so mutilated... He is brutal, but every brutal choice has elegance, grace... The Ripper _performs_. Gideon just wanted to preserve the brain and heart of these two different women. Aside from the removal, the only other injuries they sustained were the ones that caused their death- both of which were slit throats which were done cleanly, effectively... No mutilation, no performance."  
Lecter crossed his legs, sitting back in his seat as he digested that information.  
After a few seconds, Will stood, strolling past the psychiatrist and over to view some of his book collection kept on the shelves behind his desk. "There's something else... These victims weren't put on display; they were buried. And not just thrown in the ground either, but wrapped in a sheet and delicately placed in an area Gideon was fond of... Positioned so that they were clutching the part of themselves which he valued most, the part he took with him... These women weren't chosen at random. He knew them, or of them, at least."  
"Nothing like the Ripper, then."  
"Not at all."

Glancing at his watch, FBI's special investigator inhaled deeply, turning back around to face Hannibal. With a sigh, he gestured to the door. "I better go. I've to give a lecture this afternoon."  
Dr. Lecter stood. "Yes. My next appointment should be here at any moment." Walking the other man over to the door, he paused with his hand on the handle. "Any time, Will. If you need to talk, appointment or not."  
Will nodded appreciatively.

The door opened to reveal the psychiatrist's waiting room in which Grace Mason sat, perched on a chair in the far corner with her eyes glazed over as she appeared to be lost in thought.

"Good morning, Miss Mason."  
The teen jumped to her feet haphazardly, slightly startled, before smoothing down the skirt of her red sun-dress as she spoke. "G'morning, Dr. Lecter." She gave Will a polite smile.  
"Have you been here long?" Hannibal inquired, wondering if she had been eavesdropping, while at the same time dismissing the idea given how far she was sitting from the door.  
"No, just a couple of minutes. I was about to knock when I heard you talking inside and didn't want to interrupt." Standing awkwardly, she pointed behind her. "I could come back..."  
Will spoke up without looking directly at her. "No, no need. I was just leaving." Giving her a shy smile, he made his way towards the exit.  
"Goodbye, Will."  
"It was nice meeting you!" Grace called after him but he was already out the door.  
Glancing back, her eyes met Lecter's.  
"Would you like to come inside?"  
The young woman followed him in.

"How did you sleep?" Hannibal was watching his patient as she roamed around his office, taking everything in.  
"Well, thank you." She gazed appreciatively at a Japanese painting on his wall above the couch.  
"No trouble, then?"  
"Should I have?" Grace glanced back at him, looking puzzled.  
"Troubled sleep and nightmares would be normal given what you experienced last night." He leaned back to sit on the edge of his desk, his eyes still observing her attentively.  
"And a long, restful, dreamless sleep?"  
"Is for lucky people."  
"Do you have a lot of nightmares, Dr. Lecter?"  
"No."  
"I guess we're the lucky ones, then." She smiled brightly at him, before gesturing to the ladder. "May I?"  
He returned her smile. "Of course."

His patient climbed up to the loft, letting her eyes joyously feast on all the books that filled the shelves. "So, are you suggesting I'm not normal?"  
Hannibal eyed her as she slowly moved on to the next set of shelves. "No... Why, do you feel you are not normal?"  
Pulling a medical journal off the shelf, the teen flicked through the pages, a smirk threatening the corners of her mouth. "Define normal."  
"In this specific case, I believe it refers to having the usual, standard, natural and healthy reaction to events."  
A soft laugh escaped her as she turned around to glance down at him. "I wasn't actually asking you to."  
Lecter smiled coyly. "And I wasn't allowing you deflect. Again."  
Grace raised her eyebrows challengingly. "I see." Placing the book back in its designated spot, she spoke thoughtfully. "I feel normal is overrated."

After a moment of silence, she opened her mouth again. "Was that Will Graham?"  
"Yes. You recognise the name but not the person." It wasn't a question.  
"Gideon mentioned him. The other night."  
"And what did Dr. Gideon have to say about him?"  
The teen turned again to lean against the railing, her eyes on Hannibal. "Not much. Just mentioned him when he was ranting on about how he was the Chesapeake Ripper. Said something about not having to prove it to me, the FBI or Will Graham."  
"Ah," was all Lecter replied.  
"He looks haunted," she murmured sadly, almost to herself.  
"Who, Gideon?"  
"No, Mr. Graham. On the way out..." She shrugged with a sigh. "I hope he's okay."  
The psychiatrist smiled knowingly. "He will be."

More quietness enveloped them.  
"Thirty-seven."  
Hannibal blinked, eyebrows raised. "I'm sorry?"  
"The number of plays Shakespeare is thought to have written. I was referring to the number of people my grandfather killed, though. Thirty-seven... That's quite a lot of people. Especially when you think of the domino effect of that... These are people who would have went on to change the lives of others, who would have had children... Not only did he shorten the lives of his victims, but he also stopped other people from being born. On this day, hundreds of people that should be wandering the earth are non-existent because of him. It's weird when you think about it."  
Dr. Lecter nodded, his expression compassionate. "You never did get to answer my question yesterday."  
Grace sighed. "How do I feel about it? I don't know. It's not about me, though, is it? It's about my grandfather and the people he butchered."  
"You are allowed to have a reaction to the news, Miss Mason."  
"But I didn't even know the man. Or his victims. They all died before I was born."  
"Regardless, this is your grandfather. A man you are related to. Some of his genes are now yours. If it wasn't for him, you probably wouldn't exist today."  
"True... It's interesting, isn't it?" She tapped her fingers along the top of the railing. "Because of what he liked to do in his spare time, the world is different. Perhaps it's not a major difference, but it's different none the less. He managed to change the world, make an impact on history more than most people ever achieve..."  
Hannibal observed her carefully. "You sound almost... impressed."  
She frowned. "I guess I am, in a way. That's not dismissing the fact that what he did was without a doubt terrible and horrifying."  
"Of course."

The young woman moved back to the ladder, attempting to climb down it in the most graceful way possible considering the dress she was clad in.  
Dr. Lecter watched her attentively, noticing her brown eyes weren't as guarded as they usually were. "I will admit- I'm pleasantly surprised to see you are more loquacious today, but I was also expecting more questions."  
Grace moved over to the desk beside him, toying with the adjustable lamp as she spoke. "Questions about what?"  
"Last night. And Dr. Gideon." He gazed down at her, searching for answers in her eyes.  
"I plan on visiting him again to acquire some answers to my questions myself..."  
He stifled a smirk. "I'm not sure you will be allowed to visit him again. The FBI believe Gideon's interest in you could be dangerous..." Feigning an expression which portrayed rumination, he continued. "Why, has Dr. Chilton already agreed to this? It wouldn't surprise me; I know he tends to bend the rules every so often to excel in his field... It's obvious he sees having Gideon as his patient as an opportunity to make himself known, successful..."  
_Hmm. _"No, he hasn't..."She looked amused when she glanced up at Hannibal. "Well, I'm capable of looking after myself, especially since he's locked up fairly tight. How else am I going to find out _why_ he wanted me to lead the search last night? I don't suppose you have come across anything that may help piece it together?"  
The psychiatrist simply shook his head, catching her hand as it moved to mess with the lamp again. "Please don't. You could break it."  
Pulling her hand from his grasp, Grace looked playfully contrite.

"How do they do it?" She inquired out of the blue, leaning her hip against his desk as she gazed up at him questioningly.  
"How do whom do what, Miss Mason?" Her thoughts were erratic; it was difficult for him to keep up.  
"Killers. How do they hide that part of themselves so easily? According to my mother, her father was a gentleman. According to the newspaper, the people who knew him would have never suspected it. He was well liked and respected... Yet he had this dark side lurking under the surface... How can someone who was a great father and husband be this serial killer who liked to hack people for sport? How did he get away with it for so long?" Her eyes cast downward, her forehead creasing up.  
Lecter inched closer to her as he deliberated his response. When he spoke again, his voice was quieter, thoughtful. "Killers who are talented at hiding that aspect of themselves compartmentalise well. They are astute, careful and organised. Many can lie as easily as most people breathe, and a lot are fully aware of what they do and the consequences of those actions, yet they do it anyway. The best adapt well. They present themselves in a certain fashion so that most people would never suspect their more... sinister activities. Some, like your grandfather, hide in plain sight and lead full, functioning work, social and family lives."  
Grace took a moment to process that information, swallowing loudly.  
All the while she was unaware of Hannibal's eyes watching the mechanism of throat. Inhaling her fragrance, he inwardly noted the brands of her perfume and body-wash, which were sprinkled on her skin like seasoning.

She broke the silence first. "Do you have a stance on the whole 'genes versus environment' debate?"  
"You are afraid you possess traits like your grandfather," he stated matter-of-factly, having already sensed her worry the day before. "Do you feel as though you may be similar to him, Miss Mason?"  
Just like that, the guard was up again. Crossing her arms, she laughed humourlessly, shrugging her shoulders. "Nope. Just curious, what with you being a psychiatrist, you have the scientific, medical and psychological perspectives at hand... Never mind."  
Before the man could call her out on deflecting once again, she moved away from both him and his desk, glancing down at her wrist as she did.  
"Damn, forgot my watch. Do you have the time, Dr. Lecter?"  
He looked down. "Quarter to twelve."  
"I know this appointment technically doesn't end until twelve, but do you mind if I leave early? I have to go pretend I just flew in from England."  
Hannibal shook his head, smiling politely. "Of course not. I'll walk you out."

"You're not going to want to see me everyday, are you, Dr. Lecter?""After a second she quickly added, "It's just, I have things to do and I'd hate for you to tire of me."  
He smirked as he opened the door. "Don't worry. I insisted on the appointment today to ensure you are all right following last night, but really two to three appointments per week should suffice, if that suits you."  
Grace nodded, stepping out over the threshold.  
"If you need to see me before our next appointment, however-"  
She smiled. "I have your number. And I know where you live- well, work. I'll get in touch if I need you."  
Pausing in the waiting room, he asked, "Have you told anyone else in your life about all this, Miss Mason?"  
The young woman shook her head. "I don't feel the need to. Let me guess, you're going to advise that I do?"  
"No. Quite the contrary, actually. But since I am the only person in your life aware of the situation you are in, I'd like to stress that if you ever need to talk- even over the phone- just contact me."  
Grace looked genuinely grateful for his offer. "Will do, Dr. Lecter. See you in a few days?"  
"Monday. Four o'clock."  
"I'll pencil you in," she said with a wink, a mischievous smile upon her lips as she turned to leave.

The seeds were planted. Aside from sedulously and discreetly ensuring the correct conditions for germination, all Hannibal had to do was sit back and watch the threads of her mind unfurl. Gideon was right- she was strong- but that would only make the process more interesting and the reward much more satisfying. This was Lecter's favourite part of the game.


	6. Chapter 6

"Couldn't stay away, could you?"  
Dr. Abel Gideon's voice hummed through the hallway on Friday morning, guiding Grace to where it all began.  
"This isn't exactly a social visit, Dr. Gi- _Abel_."

It hadn't required much effort on the teenager's part to convince Dr. Chilton that her visit would be beneficial to Gideon's developing psychoanalysis- after all, he had confessed more to her in those few days than to all his psychologists combined. The hospital administrator's pragmatic approach to any case which could procure him professional recognition had blinded him to the possible ramifications of his decision, much to Grace's delight.

The man swiftly moved closer to the glass, his silent movements reflective of the predator within him. "Grace, your words... They wound me. Am I just another pawn for you to utilise? Am I that dispensable to you?"  
Choosing to ignore his queries, she asked, "Why?"  
"Just some constructive criticism- I believe we have grown close enough to be that direct with each other, don't you? You are all about the 'whys'; it can become quite repetitive."  
The young woman stood in the centre of the hallway, facing Gideon's cell with defensive body language and a hard gaze. "I wouldn't have to ask if you were to offer up some answers rather than cryptic monologues."  
"See _this_," he wagged his finger at her, a triumphant smile adorning his shaded face. "This is what I'm referring to. Honesty is the best policy... If we point out these things to each other, we can grow, improve. Together."  
Grace fought off the tingle threatening her spine; an instinctive reaction provoked by his words. "Take heed of your own advice, Abel. I could do with some honesty."

The man quietly trailed his index finger along the glass. "Did the FBI send you?"  
"No one sent me. I came on my own accord."  
"We're not being watched, then..." His gesticulative nature had his hands moving to emphasise the camera on the wall behind her.  
"I turned it off myself before I came down here. Aside from your neighbours, we're all alone."  
"Ooh. That was quite reckless of you. You trust me that much?"  
Her countenance remained expressionless. "It's not as if you can hurt me from inside your cell."  
"You underestimate me, my dear Grace. But I will let it slide, just this once."

Narrowing her eyes on the predator trapped in his cage, she spoke nonchalantly. "Do you want to kill me, Abel?"  
"Oh Grace, don't think so predictably. It's quite the opposite, in fact... I want to bring you to life." Gideon's gaze shifted leisurely to meet hers, giving the young woman the sudden belief that perhaps there are worse conditions than death.

After a moment she broke the silence. "More mystifying statements. And you say I'm repetitive."  
An eerie chuckle emanated from the cell. "All in due time. Tell me- now that we're mostly alone- did you find out more about your grandfather?"  
"The Hampstead Hacker? Not much. I'm more interested in your crimes at the moment, as well as why you didn't tell Chilton or the FBI about my grandfather."  
"Because it's our little secret." He sighed. A few seconds later, he deigned, "What would you like to know?"  
"What did you do with the organs?"  
"Fantastic question. I knew you wouldn't be a let down... I put them in a safe place."  
"Why would you do that?"  
"Well, in case I happened to need them again, of course..."  
"But why-"  
Gideon slammed his hands against the glass, effectively muting the curious woman. "My turn," he stated jauntily, his fingertips tapping along the barrier. "What was your reaction when the bodies were found? Did you leave? Did you have to look away?"  
He observed wordlessly as her eyes drifted down to the floor, language tickling her tongue but not quite escaping her lips.  
With a smirk, he spoke sagely. "I knew you didn't."

* * *

"Bon appetite!"  
Dr. Lecter finished pouring red wine into his two guests' glasses as he spoke, donning an ingratiating smile as he settled into his usual seat. On his left, Alana Bloom picked at the food- or perhaps it would be described more aptly as art- on her plate, looking somewhat distracted. To the host's right was Jack Crawford, who was neatly assembling a fraction of his helpings onto his fork.

At this Saturday evening's dinner party for three, Crawford was the first to comment. "Hannibal, as always, your dish is delicious. Is this lamb?"  
"Pork," he corrected good-naturedly, pausing to take a sip of his beverage. "Citrus roasted tenderloin. I believe the wine complements the flavours exquisitely."  
The other man nodded in agreement, looking to Dr. Bloom for her opinion.  
"It's incredible," Alana chimed in, avoiding eye contact with Jack. He had been on the receiving end of her cold shoulder all evening.

"Thank you. It's a shame Will couldn't make it..." Hannibal cast out the seemingly innocuous bait and waited for one of them to bite.  
"It is." Crawford glanced from the host to the woman sitting across from him. "Why did Will cancel?"  
"He needed some rest," she stated after attending to her drink. "He has been working hard these last few days... _Too_ hard."  
Jack stiffened. "I told him that he should have gotten someone to cover his lectures this week..."  
"Well, I think those lectures are the least of his problems." The psychologist's grip tightened on her utensils.  
Silence fell upon them, until... "More wine?" Hannibal stood with a warm smile, refilling everyone's glasses.

The three spoke only polite pleasantries over the remainder of the main course. Remarks regarding the weather, traffic and Lecter's cooking and choice of wine were all that was on the menu until dessert.  
"How is Grace Mason?" Agent Crawford's apparently innocent question was directed at the psychiatrist, his gaze shifting from the classic Napoleon beneath his fork to the host.  
"She seemed well when I spoke with her on Thursday morning."  
"Has she mentioned anything I should be concerned about?"  
"Miss Mason is making progress, but- as you know- I cannot bestow anything she has mentioned in our sessions."  
"If she knows more than she has told us about Gideon, or the Chesapeake Ripper..."

Words erupted from Dr. Bloom. "How many people are you willing to harm to solve this case?"  
The agent sighed, his tone expressing warning. "Alana..."  
"No, Jack. You're pushing people too much. First Will, now Grace Mason... She was barely out of hospital and you put her in front of a volatile, criminally insane man. Not to mention subjecting her to witnessing the discovery of the bodies of those other girls..."  
"She could have said no. She could have left. She chose not to." He spoke vehemently.

"You pressured her. Who in their right mind would say no to helping the bureau when the peace of the victims' families rely on them? Of course she couldn't say no- she's not heartless. You shouldn't have put her in that position." The woman paused, taking a rather large gulp of wine. "And she didn't leave because, just like a car crash, you placed something horrific in front of her that she couldn't look away from. Who knows what damage was caused there."  
"_I_ did this?" The FBI agent set his knife and fork down on the table carefully, his voice low and deliberate. "Gideon was the one who put those bodies there- not me. He is also the one who insisted on involving the girl. Don't act like she is an entirely innocent victim in all of this- she has yet to explain how or why she broke out of her ward and trespassed her way down to him."

"'Innocent until proven guilty', Jack, remember that? For all we know, she did just happen to sleep-walk down there. Unfortunately for her, before the guards or nurses spotted her, Gideon did. It is hardly her fault a killer has become obsessed with her because she looks like his past victims. She doesn't strike me as the type who enjoys that kind of attention!"  
Crawford appeared sceptical. "She wouldn't be the first woman in history to want a relationship with a murderer. Plenty of infamous killers get fan-mail. Not to mention that she has a history of being unstable; she was locked up in Baltimore too!"  
Alana's eyes widened incredulously. "She doesn't have a history of being unstable! She checked herself into the hospital because she felt depressed and suicidal- because she wanted to get better with the help of trusted professionals. That is nowhere near the spectrum of being the kind of unstable that self-destructively wants to involve themselves with dangerous people like Gideon, and you know it. You're assuming the worst without any basis."  
"No, I am expressing a healthy distrust towards someone who could easily be fooling and manipulating those around her. Given the circumstances, my theory is just as plausible- if not more so- than yours."

Dr. Bloom shook her head. "Cynicism, Jack; don't let it blind you. I understand that you have to take everything into consideration for your investigation but you can't deny the possibility that Miss Mason is just as much a victim as those women you found. I'd appreciate it if you treat her as such until you find concrete evidence to support your theory. Even if you are right, putting her in front of Gideon is not going to help. Either way, it will make things worse... Stop pushing both her and Will into situations that could harm their mental health."  
The head of the FBI's Behavioural Science Unit's nostrils flared. "Who is this about- Grace Mason or Will Graham?!" He paused to inhale deeply before continuing."Alana, I respect that you are looking out for the girl's well-being—as well as Will's—but you have to let me do my job without antagonising me. It is not your place to advise whether or not I ask the best profiler the FBI has for their help, or how I treat suspects. This is my investigation."

Having decided the chaos he had incited had reached its end, Hannibal rose from the seat he had been discreetly observing from and collected his guests' plates, receiving thanks as he did.

The following minutes consisted of various platitudes, Alana Bloom insisting on helping Dr. Lecter clean up despite his protests, Jack Crawford excusing himself and leaving to get back to his office after thanking the host for his meal, and the female psychologist's sincere apologies for interrupting an otherwise pleasant dinner with her and Jack's heated debate.

* * *

Time. Only man measures it and only man fears it running out. The inevitable sequence of events that will result in one's demise. The point where you can no longer deny your own mortality. The most common wish is to pass peacefully and with dignity- but is there such a death? Can you die with dignity? Is anyone truly at peace when they gasp for their final breath- a cluster of elements which never reaches the alveoli in their lungs?  
Perhaps the more pertinent question that should be posed is: why were such thoughts on Grace Mason's mind as she stared at a wall in her psychiatrist's office?

Maybe she would benefit from these sessions after all.

Ah, but that would require telling Dr. Lecter what was really on her mind, and she wasn't sure she could trust him just yet.

"Grace?"  
Why did that sound incongruous?  
"You don't mind me using your first name, do you?"  
"You can call me whatever you'd like, Dr. Lecter." Readjusting her focus to capture his face in her line of vision, she gave him a small smile to ease the delivery of her statement.  
"You seem distracted."  
"I am distracted."  
"Would you like to discuss what it is that has you trapped within the realms of your mind?" He shifted slightly in his seat, but his expression showed nothing but his saintlike patience.  
_How long w__ill__ that patience last?_ Grace wasn't sure why she wanted to know the answer to that question, but- for reasons unbeknownst to herself- she unconsciously set on the path of discovering the extent of his forbearance.  
"Nope."  
"In that case, would you like to know what I think has you so preoccupied?"  
"Probably not."

The man in the impeccable checkered suit smiled knowingly. "You're not the first one, you know."  
The teen paid a fraction more attention to the exchange at hand. "I'm not the first one of what, Dr. Lecter?"  
"The first patient to try push me away."  
She almost frowned at that. _Is that what I'm trying to do?_ "Great. So now I'm a stereotype."  
"On the contrary, far from it. You're just not to first patient of mine to try this technique of attempting to alienate me."  
"Who was the other?"  
"Confidentiality also applies to my other patients, Grace."  
A smirk surfaced on her countenance. "Right. You've a good few other patients? Who actually need your help with their.. troubles?"  
Tilting his head to one side, he inquired, "Do you feel you don't need my help, Grace?"  
"Well yeah, maybe... No. I don't know."  
"You feel undeserving of my help, then?"  
"What? No... I- It's just..." She hesitated a second to organise her thoughts. "It's like you said- in the hospital I was taking up a bed on someone who actually needed psychiatric help; am I not doing the same here with your appointment times?"  
Hannibal joined his hands together at his knee. "I did infer that there may be others who would get more use out of your bed in the hospital, but I never meant to suggest that you wouldn't benefit from sessions with a psychiatrist."  
The young woman's expression was swept with exasperation and confusion. "Oh my god, seriously? What's the difference?"  
"There's quite a significant difference. Would you like me to explain it, or is this just you searching for a disagreement?"

Without answering, Grace stood, wandering over to the chaise lounge. Taking a seat, she opted to lie back, her gaze moving to the ceiling. "Do many patients use this?"  
"Some," Dr. Lecter replied, watching the woman with undoubted interest and hidden amusement.  
"So I'm just expected to lie back and tell you everything about myself?"  
"No, I don't expect you to talk about anything you are not comfortable discussing with me. I do hope, however, you grow to feel comfortable enough with me to speak about whatever is on your mind."  
A moment of silence. "What's your theory?"  
"My theory?" His eyebrows rose.  
"About why I'm distracted."  
Hannibal took a moment to deliberate before speaking. "I believe recent events have affected you more than you'd like to show. Dr. Gideon's interest in you both repulses and intrigues you, conflicting emotions that you have trouble coming to terms with. I also believe the discovery you made about your grandfather has you questioning what you know- not only about others, but also about yourself. You take pride in appearing calm, collected, knowledgeable and determined on the exterior, yet inside your mind everything you thought you knew has started to show cracks that you cannot ignore. You want to repair those cracks, or fill in the gaps, but you are not sure how to achieve that, as you aren't certain about what or who you can trust- including yourself. You fear what will become of you if you don't fix the cracks- and what will become of you if you do."

The nineteen year old was left speechless; the only sound to penetrate the suffocating silence of the office was her humourless laugh which was weakened by her slow, shaky exhalation. Many seconds passed before words were reintroduced. "That's quite a lot of information you got from just the few hours we've spent together in the last six days."  
"Do you disagree with my analysis, Grace?"  
She sat up straight upon suddenly feeling vulnerable in her horizontal position. "I think you read into things too much." She swung herself around until her feet returned to being firmly planted on the ground.  
Lecter gave the woman a small, warm, inviting smile. "Perhaps you are right."

"I went to see Gideon again on Friday." Grace's disclosure was unanticipated, unlike what she disclosed.  
"How did that go?"  
"He talks a lot. I think he likes to hear himself speak, like one of those movie villains who spends too long talking rather than doing what they came to do. It's comical really, and pathetic."  
The psychiatrist stifled a smirk, somewhat impressed by the woman's shrewdness. "Did he have anything of worth within his ramblings?"  
"It's hard to say. He did suggest I go out to Hampstead and search the library near there for old local newspapers, 'cause they might give me more information about my grandfather. He also thought I should ask the locals what they remember. According to him, he grew up in the town and everyone there knows about The Hampstead Hacker." She rolled her eyes.  
"You discussed your grandfather with him?"  
"Not really, he just kept bringing him up. It was a one-sided conversation all round."  
"Did he talk about anything else?"  
"I asked him if he wanted to kill me... He said that he wanted to 'bring me to life'."  
"Do you know what he meant by that?"  
"No... Do you?"  
Hannibal shook his head. "It could mean a number of things. It could mean nothing. The latter is doubtful."  
"Why can't you be as insightful with him as you are with me?"  
"Because Gideon isn't my patient- you are."  
"Cop out," she accused, once again lessening the blow with a coy smile.

"Have you considered what he might have meant by it?"  
Grace nodded, her tongue moving within her mouth to trace along the inside of her teeth once again. Shifting to sit cross-legged in the centre of the chaise-lounge, she lifted her hand behind her to move her hair so that it rested over her left shoulder, a distant look overtaking her eyes. "I think... Judging by the _way_ he said it... It's like he thought I wasn't living my life properly yet, almost as if I haven't reached my full potential... And he thought he could fix that."  
The hint of a smile tugging at the corners of Lecter's mouth went unnoticed by the woman. He was astonished by her perceptiveness, and proud- she had yet to disappoint him.  
She shrugged nonchalantly. "Or he could've been saying words for the sake of it. What do I know?"

After a brief pause, the teen added, "Oh, he didn't really say any more about the missing girls or hint at any other crime, I think... Just in case that FBI agent asks you. Lawfully, I shouldn't have visited him again, though..."  
"Lawfully, I cannot tell Agent Crawford anything you reveal to me, Grace. And that is one law I intend adhering to."  
"Oh. Good." The young woman glanced down at her jeans, removing a piece of fluff from her knee as she spoke. "Just so you know, if Gideon mentioned something important to the FBI's investigation I would have passed the information on, one way or another..."  
He smiled. "I know."  
"Unlike what Agent Crawford seems to believe, I wouldn't do anything to help Gideon evade justice."  
"I believe you, Grace. And Agent Crawford will come to that conclusion himself, eventually."

The restless patient appeared doubtful of the latter statement as she stood once more, moving over to her psychiatrist's desk. She was tempted to mess with the lamp again, just to see what reaction it would evoke, but was her attention was diverted to another item in sight. "Why do you have a scalpel?"  
"I find it is a more effective method of sharpening my pencils." He responded casually, appearing unperturbed by her prying eyes.  
The woman pursed her lips, picking up the instrument to examine it more closely. "Hmm. Might steal that idea on you."  
"By all means." His eyes remained on her attentively as she slid the side of the scalpel along her palm.

"Did you draw this?" She repositioned her head rather than the picture in order to acquire a better view.  
Hannibal rose to his feet, running his hand down along his waistcoat as he walked over to her. "Yes, that is one of my drawings," he uttered upon glancing at the page.  
"So you're just one of those people who's good at everything, then?" Her gaze drifted up to him, a hint of genuine fondness in her orbs.  
His hand moved to retrieve the scalpel from her grasp as it traced precariously along her other palm. "I can't help but wonder what I've done to earn such flattery, Grace, considering your tendency towards the disagreeable at the beginning of the session."  
The young woman released the tool with a mischievous smile. "Don't be so hyperbolic, Dr. Lecter."

"Actually," she began, seemingly timid, "I was going to ask you for a favour..."  
"Ah," Lecter murmured, an eyebrow raised inquisitively.  
"Despite Gideon's ridiculousness, I think visiting Hampstead may be a good idea... But I need a ride there and anyone else I know will ask why I want to go. Since you're the only person besides Gideon who knows about my grandfather, I thought maybe you could come with. After all, having another person's perspective can only be beneficial, and yours is a good perspective to avail of."  
"When would you like to go?"  
"As soon as possible... Tomorrow?" Her voice displayed her hopefulness.  
"You're in luck- I have no appointments scheduled for tomorrow afternoon."  
Graced grinned up at him. "You'll do it, then?"  
He nodded. "I'd be happy to help. Does one o'clock suit you?"  
"One o'clock is perfect."  
"I'll meet you here." At that moment, Hannibal's gaze wandered to the view out the nearest window. His eyes lingered there, on something across the street, before eventually moving back to the woman beside him.  
Something had changed within those dark eyes, but she couldn't pinpoint exactly what it was.

"Grace, I am going to give you my home address." He stated suddenly, walking around to the other side of his desk to find a writing utensil and a page.  
"Okay..." The woman watched him curiously.  
"In case you ever need to see me outside of office hours, you should find me here. Any time you feel the need, a visit is most welcome." Upon penning the address down, he handed her the scrap of paper.  
"Do you tell all your patients where you live?" Her eyes narrowed on him suspiciously.  
He shook his head. "No, but I want you to know that you can see me whenever you'd like to come and talk in a safe place."  
"Oh, well thank you..." Slipping the address into her back-pocket, the teen glanced at the small clock on his desk. "Time's up. I better get going; I told a friend I'd drop in on the way home."  
"Is this the friend who covered for you?" He inquired, walking her to the door.  
"Yep. Still haven't told her anything, though, if that's what you're about to ask."  
"That's probably best," he mused, opening the door for her.  
"So, I'll see you tomorrow?"  
With a friendly smile, he confirmed, "One o'clock. Have a good evening, Grace."  
"Back at ya, Dr. Lecter."

Back in his office, Hannibal was fetching his jacket and keys when the phone rang. Answering it, he feigned shock at the news that was given to him.  
"I'm afraid she has already left. ... Yes, I believe he may go after her too. I'm going to drive around now and see if I can find her. Perhaps try contacting her on her cell phone? ... Neither do I. I'll be in touch."

Multiple possibilities of how the situation might unfold cavorted through Dr. Lecter's excited mind as he exited his office.

* * *

Emily Lowe preferred the quietness, but when her mother was out of town on conferences the house was too soundless. Times like these were when she opted to leave the television on regardless of whether or not she was watching it.

The twenty year old introvert stood by an easel in her living room, light from the TV swimming along the opposing walls. With a brush in one hand and a paint pallet in the other, she mulled over adding more detail to the landscape she had depicted that afternoon- the type of landscape that instilled calm in an otherwise chaotic world. Sunlight insouciantly glistened on a meandering river in the countryside. Cirrus clouds lay scattered above a thatched-roof cottage and the abundantly coloured, vivacious flowers that surrounded it, as the plant life reached up towards the hovering orange giant in the west while it peaked out from behind a mist covered mountain range.

Deciding to take a break, the tall, slender brunette headed into her kitchen before a knock on the front door of her town house halted her footsteps. Sighing at the unwanted opportunity to socialise, she considered ignoring the visitor before recalling her friend had mentioned something about stopping by. Emily's irritation dissipated and was replaced with relief as she moved to answer the door, frowning en-route when she spotted the splash of paint which stained her dungarees.

"Grace, hi." She stepped aside and gestured for her friend to enter.  
"Miss Lowe, what did I tell you about sparring with your paint brush?" Grinning playfully, she followed Emily inside. "May I see your latest masterpiece?"  
The brunette scoffed, pointing through the doorway of her living room. "Hardly a masterpiece..."  
"Yeah, that's terrible. What were you even trying to paint?"  
"Your face."  
"How mature."  
"I know."  
Grace laughed, shaking her head. "It's about time you started seeing your talent for what it is, Em."  
"Meh, maybe later. Coffee?"  
"Please."

"So, how are you finding normal civilian life compared to the groupie life?" Emily placed two mugs down on the kitchen table, taking a seat across from her friend before filling them.  
"Hey, I wasn't a groupie... But it's fine, I guess. I'm being kept busy."  
"Thank god for that. When you're bored you're unbearable."  
"Gee, thanks." The blonde gently blew into her mug and watched as the surface of her coffee rippled.  
"Any time." The taller of the two women took a sip of her beverage, allowing the liquid trickle down her throat before speaking again. Her brow furrowed. "You know you can talk to me about stuff, don't you? I mean...If you don't mind me saying... You seem a little distracted ever since you got back- more distracted than usual, I should say. Nothing happened while you were away, did it?"  
At that moment, Emily's unalloyed concern had Grace considering letting the person who she deemed her closest friend in on what was really happening in her life- but that thought was only fleeting and inconsequential. "No, of course not. Just, as you said, getting used to normal civilian life again... And likewise, about the talking thing." She gave her friend a grateful smile before bringing her coffee to her lips. "How are you, anyway? Your mom's back soon, right?"  
"Tomorrow. And I'm good. Just relaxing, painting... My next shift in work isn't until Wednesday morning so I'm making the most out of my days off by being lazy."  
"Glad to hear it."

Grace wasn't close to, nor did she value companionship with, many people. Emily, however, proved to be someone she enjoyed being around. She found enough commonalities as well as contrast in the other woman that resulted in the perfect mix of a friend with whom she could happily spend time with. She also silently admired how Emily's untainted mind worked and how she was capable of reminding the restless blonde to slow down and appreciate life. Given the positive effect the other woman had on her, Grace decided to attribute more time to being in her company.

"Do you have plans for dinner, Em?"  
The brunette shook her head, jutting her thumb out behind her towards the refrigerator. "I planned on finding something lurking in there that might be somewhat edible."  
With a laugh, the other woman suggested, "Well, how about I pick up a pizza for us? I have to go home and check in 'cause my mom's whining about how I'm never there, but I can grab us some food afterwards and take it back here?"  
Emily's face lit up. "Yeah, sounds great! I can find something on the TV for us to watch."  
"Perfect."

* * *

Two and a half hours after Grace Mason left her friend's house, she was back on her doorstep again, armed with a large pizza from the nearest take-out restaurant. When several knocks went unanswered, the blonde grew tired of waiting. Her free hand clutched the brass handle on the Victorian door and turned it until her entrance was permitted.  
"Emily? The food's getting cold!"  
The teen closed the door behind her, frowning when she heard no reply from her friend. A feeling of dread passed through her, leaving her spine tingling and her stomach suddenly weighing more than it did seconds before. She could feel the hairs on the nape of her neck strain outwards. Upon realising she had ceased breathing, her brain suddenly reacted to high levels of carbon dioxide in her blood, forcing her lungs to draw in rapid, shallow breaths to counteract this development. Her chest heaved as she took a few steps through the hallway.  
"Em?! This isn't funny!"  
_Maybe she's in the shower? Or just went out for awhile?_ Her optimism tried to calm her but it was no use; that feeling of dread was currently controlling her body. When the young woman's gut told her something was wrong, it was usually proved right. This instance was no exception.

As the doorway to the living room came into view, Grace's eyes drifted to the landscape painting she had been impressed by just hours before- but now, it was destroyed by spatters of blood.


End file.
